


040 - Enemies to Friends

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “can you do something like enemies to lovers where Van’s an ass to you but he falls for you eventually”





	040 - Enemies to Friends

Fleur was in love. It wasn't a crush, it wasn't puppy love, it was deep and unconditional and you were so Goddamn happy for her. You'd waited your entire life for someone to look at your best friend and see her for everything she was. When she first introduced you to Larry, you were so relieved. He was kind and used manners, but was also bitingly funny. As you third wheeled with them sometimes you would watch the way he'd be aware of where Fleur was in the room. He'd keep an eye out for her and gravitate back towards her after only a few minutes. She'd be flipping through records, or ordering at the bar, and Larry would be there. A bubble formed around them and it had its own gravitational pull. It was the natural way of things then that you would meet Van McCann. Your new-found least favourite person in the entire world.

You were sitting in a booth at a diner; you on the window side and Fleur next to you, aisle side. The door chimed and Larry walked towards you; he was shadowed by a taller guy in a jacket that was inappropriate for both the weather and the casual dinner. Fleur stood up immediately and fell into Larry. They were always good at judging what type of affection could be displayed in the location they were in. You slid out of the booth and considered introducing yourself to Van, since that was the point of the dinner, but he had his phone out and was doing something he deemed more important than being polite. Larry hugged you, then you all sat. Van was opposite you, and Larry opposite Fleur. The phone went away.

"Y/N, this is Van. Van, Y/N," Larry introduced. You smiled and said hi. He gave you a weird nod of the head.

As you pretended to read the menu you tried to recall all the things Larry and Fleur had ever told you about Van. There was a lot, but all of it was good. He was apparently loyal, and sweet. He cared a lot about his friends and family. He'd do anything to make them happy and if they were, well then he was too. He was funny but mostly not on purpose. He was entertaining and animated, and above all else he was a deeply good human being. As you watched him over the menu, you wondered if maybe they'd brought the wrong Van to dinner.

He had one hand on his bottle of beer, and the other was rested along the back of the booth, behind Larry. He was listening to Fleur talk about her new puppy. She'd yet to name it and she wanted suggestions.

"I'm tellin' ya, it has to be Larry," suggested Larry.

"Why would I name my dog after my boyfriend? That's weird?"

"My dog is named Mary," Van said.

"Should I also name my dog Mary?" Fleur replied, confused at his intent.

"His mum is also named Mary," Larry clarified. It should have been funny, but Van's lack of physical movement, and his eyes watching over Fleur for a reaction unnerved you.

"See, that's weird, Van. I don't even want to know why that happened," she said.

"I do," you added, as he took a sip. He looked at you then, and it was probably the first time he really noticed you. He was beautiful, but it wasn't like he was flaunting it. Fleur told you that whenever someone complimented his looks he'd deflect and point out a flaw, or draw attention to something pretty about someone else. He still seemed smug though. He shrugged at you, not offering to explain.

The food arrived, and Larry and Van were both polite to the waiter. He gained a few points back for that. Fleur got up to go to the bathroom, and you went to follow her.

"Why do girls do that?" you heard Van ask Larry as you walked away. Ugh.

"Oh my god, Y/N, what is wrong with you?" Fleur asked as soon as you were in the safe space of the bathroom.

"What?! Me? You told me Van was all sunshine and fucking rainbows. He's out there not even trying!" You were hurt that she thought this was your fault.

"He's a bit more quiet than usual, but he's not being rude or anything," she defended.

"Neither am I?" 

She nodded and went into a stall. You looked at yourself in the mirror and put a wild piece of hair back in place. You considered touching up your lipstick but decided it wasn't worth it. 

Back at the table, Larry told Van that you were studying at uni.

"Do you remember that time we went to a college party and they were taping beer cans together and drinkin' through them? Different type of person goes to college, I swear," Van said to Larry more than to you or Fleur.

"Me. I'm the type of person that goes to college," you replied. He looked at you with a frown.

"Don't get upset, love. Didn't say anything about you,"

"You said that a 'different' type of person goes to college. I go to college. Therefore you're saying there's something wrong or weird or whatever about me,"

"Have you ever drank beer from ten cans stuck together?" he asked. You shook your head. "Well, then you're fine. Calm down."

Fleur shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew that every time someone had told you to calm down that it resulted in you doing the opposite. You swallowed the rage and disengaged from the conversation for her benefit. You wanted her to be happy, and if it meant enduring Van, then you'd do it.

When the bill came Van and Larry both went to pay, and after three rounds of rock paper scissors, Van won the privilege. He tipped well, and you were confused why you seemed to be so exempt from the good version of him.

…

The second time you interacted with Van was after a Catfish show. You watched him on stage from the bar. Fleur kept saying "See?" She was right. He was incredible and in love with what he was doing. He was also clearly humbled by people knowing the words; he missed lyrics when he couldn’t contain his happy and had to laugh.

Larry collected you both from the bar and took you to the green room. Against your better judgement, you sat next to Van on a couch. "What did you think?" he asked, instead of a regular greeting.

"People really love you, don't they?" you said. You meant it to mean 'you are obviously fucking great, and I hope you know how loved you are' but as you said it you could hear how it could be interpreted. Van's head tilted to the side.

"I don't know. Do they?" he said, his voice flattening.

"Yes," you confirmed. He then let himself be distracted by something else in the room. You didn't really speak the rest of the night.

…

The next time you saw him it was an accident, and he had no choice but to interact with you. You were at a house party, and you didn't even consider that he'd be there. It was Fleur's brother's friend's party or something, and she said she invited Larry. Of course, Larry brought Van.

You had been talking to a group of people in the backyard. The conversation had turned political, which was always dangerous. One of the boys standing in the circle said, "Yeah I mean, girls should be paid the same and everything, but I just don't know why they need this whole feminism thing." As soon as the stupid fucking words escaped his mouth you knew it would end badly. At first, like always, you tried to explain logically why feminism was critical. The boy's ego was being threatened, he thought, and he did all he could do to win the fight - he called you a bitch. You laughed.

"Mate, I'd call you a cunt, but we all know you don't have the warmth or depth. Not as useful as them either, yeah?" you spat back. He turned a dark shade of red and considered it. He pushed you backwards, but you didn't trip. Then, out of nowhere Van appeared. He stood between the guy and you.

"You better back the fuck up, mate," Van said. You moved to be by his side.

"Fuck you, you hipster twat. Your girlfriend's a feminazi," the guy yelled. You went to move forward, not sure what you would do. Van quickly grabbed you by the shoulders. You shook him off and looked at him. He shook his head. "That's right, do what the man says, love," the guy said, quieter now. Before you had the chance to say anything, Van threw a punch. The guy stumbled back and the crowd of people that had formed to watch gasped.

"Van!" Larry called, pushing through the crowd. He dragged Van away, and Fleur took your hand and led you in the opposite direction. She tried to take you inside, but you slipped your hand out of hers and said you were going home.

You spent the rest of the night confused and angry.

…

The fourth time you saw Van, you definitely saw him, and he definitely saw you, but he pretended to not. You were at a café with a friend and were sitting in the window seats. Van walked past then came in. You never made eye contact, but you could tell by the way his body language changed that he'd seen you. Fleur once told you about how she'd found him asleep in a café once. He'd go and spend hours writing in his little notebook, so you knew he had planned on staying when you saw it tucked under his arm. When he took a takeaway cup and left without acknowledging you, it was on purpose.

"Who was that?" Tom asked. You made a face like you didn't know what he meant. "That guy in the jacket. Do you know him?"

"Kind of," you replied.

"Why's he avoiding you?"

"Okay, thank you! There's no way he didn't see me, yeah?" you said too self-righteously. Tom laughed and took another sip of tea.

…

The first time you went to Larry's house was for a Sunday roast dinner Fleur was making. He'd given her a spare key, and you sat at the kitchen table watching her get started. Larry wasn't home, nor was Van - who lived there too and was therefore obviously invited to dinner. As Fleur hunted for more salt you wanted to ask about Van, but you didn't want her to think you cared. You did, though.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, and on the way back down the hall you stood in the doorway of a bedroom. It had to be Van's. His bed was unmade and there were clothes thrown around. There were piles of CDs and records, and one caught your eye. You told yourself to leave it, that going into anyone's bedroom uninvited was rude, but going into the bedroom of someone that clearly hated you was social suicide. But, you hadn't seen a first print vinyl of Van Morrison before. You carefully rolled it out of the cover and put it on the record player Van had set up next to his bed. You knelt down in front of the player like an altar, and listened to the warm sound as it crackled.

You were two songs in when the hairs on the back of your neck prickled. You opened your eyes and spun your head around. Van was sitting on the side of his bed behind you, near the end. He was leaning back on both arms watching you. You couldn't tell if he was angry or amused or anything. You stood up quickly, and he looked a little surprised at your movement. You went to say something, but words wouldn't form.

"Make yourself at home," he said.

"I'm sorry. Um. Really not cool. I know. I'm sorry. I'll go," you babbled and rushed out the room.

"Y/N," he spoke as you reached the doorway. You were so close to being clear and free in the safety of Fleur's presence. You turned around and bit your lip. "Why don't you like me?" he questioned. 

"What?" was all you could manage.

"Fleur won't say it, but you don't like me much,"

"I don’t not like you," you said and he snorted. "You’re… different to how people describe you."

"How do people describe me?" he asked.

"Uh… that you're good? Nice and kind and funny and sweet. I don't know,"

"And you don’t think I'm like that?"

"I didn't say that," you said defensively, even though that was what you'd essentially implied. "That's just not how you've been around me."

"I punched that guy," he reminded.

"Yeah… I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but violence doesn't really fit under the nice/kind/sweet umbrella, does it?"

He stood up then and looked at you carefully.

"What else have I done to make you not like me?" he sounded sad, really. You were uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but you also knew that Fleur and Larry would probably get married and have a billion babies and you'd be stuck with Van forever. You sighed and walked to his bed and sat down. He sat back down next to you.

"You were really weird at dinner when we met. You didn't talk much, and when you did it was argumentative. You implied there was something wrong with me because I go to uni. You were patronising. You ignore me a lot whenever we have to hang out. You literally ignored me that time at the café. I don’t hate you. I just… I don't know you because you've pretty much just pretended that I'm not here, or that I'm not worth knowing," you spilt it all out on the table. Let him sort through the mess. He thought for a bit. He looked at you.

"I'm sorry,"

"It's fine. I just want to get along for Fleur's sake,"

"No, let me explain," he started. "I'm sorry I was weird at dinner. I knew I was being weird but I just… got nervous. I'm not used to being nervous but I was. Fleur told me heaps about what you study and it's dead smart and you're dead smart, and I'm not so I just didn't think we'd have anything to talk about. I'm sorry that I made it seem like I think college is a bad thing. It's not. I didn't mean to be patronising… I don't even know how I was?"

"You told me to calm down. And you kept calling me 'love’ and stuff,"

"I call everyone love, but I can stop. I won't do it anymore. I'm sorry I told you to calm down. You make me nervous," he said again.

"Why didn't you just say hi in the café? It was so weird Van," you kept going with illustrating your point, until the penny dropped. "I make you nervous?"

"Yeah,"

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. I guess… You're fit, and I knew that before I met you. Fleur showed me them photos from your holiday with her. You were dead cute in your little snow jacket with the fur. And I know how important you are to Larry now, because of Fleur. You're all they talk about. I didn't want to fuck it up. But I did,"

You remembered, then, a time from primary school. A boy pushed you over and took your spot in line for the monkey bars. The teacher said that it meant he liked you, so don't worry! It made you angry ever since, but that wasn't what Van was saying. He wasn't saying that you were a babe, therefore he was a dick. He was saying you were a babe, therefore he freaked the fuck out.

"You didn't fuck it up, Van. We can start again," you offered. You stood up and put your hand out to shake. He chuckled and took it. "Hi. I'm Y/N. I like records and milkshakes,"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Van. I also like records, and I like bananas."

...

Dinner was good. For the first time you felt at ease in the group and under the hazy fog of alcohol and happiness, you could finally see all the things in Van that everyone else loved. You still didn't know what to do with the information that he thought you were "dead cute" and that you made him nervous though.

After dinner you all sat down to watch a movie, but Larry and Fleur disappeared. 

"So… Maybe we should get to know each other? Like, separate to them two," Van wondered out loud. You looked at him, waiting for suggestions. He moved from his place on the armchair to sit next to you on the couch. He sat close and his arm rested along the back of the couch, like it did on the booth behind Larry on the first night you met him. "We could go get some food and see a movie or somethin',"

"Sounds an awful lot like a date, McCann,"

"Does it?"


End file.
